Will You Still Call Me Superman?
by Jackson Leona
Summary: Dean Winchester works tirelessly at his three jobs, and has dedicated his entire life to protecting the people he cares about. What will happen when there is no one there to protect him from his abusive boyfriend? How will Sam react when he learns Dean's dark secret? And most importantly why won't this Cas guy just get off his back and mind how own damn business?
1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester stands behind the bar of one of his three jobs. This one is his night job, where he is part bartender, part waiter, part bouncer, and part big brother to all the other employees of the strip club. His uniform is jeans and motorcycle boots and a crooked smile towards women or a devilish smirk towards men. It is a bisexual strip club with male strippers, female strippers and the doors are open to anyone who wants to get their kicks. There is only one rule: you get handsy, you get to meet Dean and it isn't in the fun way.

Tonight has been fairly quiet. There's only been one complaint from one of the girls and all it took was Dean crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at the creepy little fucker to get him to leave. Here, Dean is sort of treated like a king. The girls go to him when they don't feel safe, hell, even most of the guys do. The manager, Gabe, reminds him almost nightly that the night he wants to get on the stage, the pole is all his. When he's bartending and waiting tables, the patrons all hit on him and he's met his fair few of attractive people that he would love to see outside of work. Here, he feels confident. Here, Dean is everything he wants to be. He's sexy and in control and well-liked and depended on.

His day job is as a mechanic, at a local garage where his specialty is vintage cars, but he can fix anything and is considered one of the higher ups, since he's been there pretty much since he could drive a car. Here, he feels the same as at the strip club. He's confident, self-assured. When he's working on a car, he knows exactly what to do and the car responds to the loving craftsmanship of his hands. Cars are his passion and when he's covered in grease and oil and tinkering around a car, nothing else matters.

His irregular, whenever-he-can job that isn't _technically _a jobis as a volunteer firefighter. He's only called when he's needed, but so far he's helped a lot of people out and helping people makes him feel so good. He feels like he's worth something and he's got a few buddies at the station so the job is even better. He wouldn't tell anyone except for his younger brother Sam, but he's saving up his money, penny by penny, to put himself through real firefighter school. He wants to do this fulltime and every time he thinks about it, he secretly gets a little giddy. He has a hope for his future.

Dean lives with said little brother, Sam, who Dean prefers to call Sammy. Ever since their mom died when they were young, due to a house fire, Dean has felt pretty damn responsible for Sam. He likes to take care of him and he likes to make his brother happy, but he also likes to give him a hard time. The two often get into prank wars and that means the house is usually in a constant state of disarray.

Sam is a full time law student and is usually too busy for anything other than studying and hanging out with Dean at home. Dean works the two jobs to support himself and Sam, as Sam tries to get through school and not starve. Sam doesn't have the time to work, and Dean doesn't blame him for that, mostly because Sam has taken almost all of the house type shit on himself, except Dean's laundry. It's a nice arrangement that they have and it's worked for most of their adult lives.

About six months ago, Sam pestered Dean (which is Sam's favorite form of existence – _pestering_) into getting some semblance of a social life, since the only people Dean ever seemed to interact with either wanted more booze, their car fixed or their house to stop burning down. So, Dean went and got himself a boyfriend. A long time ago, he figured out he didn't just like girls, he happened to like guys as well and didn't care if anyone judged him for that. The only person whose opinion really matters to Dean is Sam's, and Sam wasn't and isn't the judging type, so it was a clean coming out process, void of family drama and disowning. So, when he went looking, he wasn't looking for anything specific, but he found a guy that he fell for pretty quickly.

So, to the outside world, Dean's life looks absolutely fucking fantastically perfect. But Dean has an incredibly dark secret that he hides even from Sam. It's a fairly simple secret to keep because it's easily hidden. His job as the big brother, bouncer, bar tender is his perfect cover because no one would ever question why Dean comes home with some bruises. If he tells people that he had to throw out a rowdy customer who was getting too handsy with one of his girls, they buy it. That's how Dean sees everyone (even the male strippers) as his girls. He was raised to treat women like queens, and since most of the male strippers want to be treated the same way, he protects them and if any one of them was hurt, he would personally see the end to person who hurt them. It's almost an uncontrollable switch in his brain: the second one of them is in the line of fire, he turns into a grizzly.

So for the last five months, it's been fairly easy to cover up the cuts and bruises with the excuses. Most people tell their loved ones that it was a box falling on them from a storage closet or that they ran into a door. Hell, about a year ago, one of the girls at work had the same problem and she had told Dean she had kicked herself in the face while she was practicing a new move. And Dean had seen straight through her paper-thin excuse and handled the situation.

But with Dean, it's different. There's no big brother to see through his paper-thin excuses and nobody to handle the situation. There is no grizzly to protect Dean. There is only the darkness and the façade. Dean is so happy when he's home with Sam and at work, whether it be fighting fires or fixing cars or making drinks or protecting the strippers, waiters and waitresses. But, when he's with his boyfriend, there is only darkness because that's when the truth comes out.

The truth is that Dean is worthless. He's never done a good job of taking care of Sammy. He's never been a good son to his incredible father. He's never been smart enough or good enough or just plain…enough. He's Dean and pretty much everything he touches turns to shit. He's always been a disappointment and all he'll ever really be is a piece of ass. At least that's what Luc, Dean's boyfriend, says.

Dean had sort of known this all his life, so when a sexy, successful and slightly older man confirmed it…well it wasn't long before Dean believed it to the core of his soul. It started with the tiny jokes at Dean's expense throughout their first couple dates and the first few weeks of their relationship. That built to rough sex where Dean always walked away too sore and a little worse for wear. That escalated to outright demeaning statements which quickly turned into what it is now: all of the above with the added bonus of yelling, screaming, knockdown, drag out fights that ended with Dean bleeding and bruised.

As much as Dean knows nobody else deserves this, he truly believes that _he_ does. He had failed Sam so many times, the kid was barely scraping by with student loan debt and was raised by a travelling dad and a mediocre older brother. Dean felt like he would never be able to make it up to Sam. There were so many failings in Dean's life: his education, his finances, his inability to do anything right. So, he never fights Luc back. Dean knows he is the only person that doesn't deserve to be stood up for or is worth protecting. He has a classic case of white knight syndrome meets pathetically, low self-esteem, and Dean accepted long ago that this must be his punishment for not being good enough at protecting the people he's supposed to protect. His curse is that he fails at his only true mission in life and therefore there is no one to have that same mission for Dean.

He's thinking this entire thing over on the quiet night at the strip club as he pours shots and mixed drinks. He's supposed to go over to Luc's tonight and hoping that maybe tonight Luc won't get so angry at him when he walks in from his "filthy, low life job." He's hoping that maybe tonight will just be sex and none of the other stuff, the stuff he has to explain to Sammy when he sees the bruises. And Dean thinks about what he would say to any of his girls that had a boyfriend like Dean's.

He'd say "Sweetie, you're too good and too pure and too breathtaking for that asshole. Leave him and leave the rest to me." But when it comes to himself, he doesn't believe that. See, Dean isn't any good and Luc is right. He is so far from pure; a broken man, covered in filth. There is nothing pure or breathtaking or gentle about him. He is nothing. Dean can't leave Luc because without Luc, Dean doesn't really know what he'd do.

Luc keeps him tied to reality, where everything is at is really is. With Luc, there isn't any naiveté or wishful thinking. With Luc, Dean knows that even though he's saving for firefighter training, that money is going to have to go to some defaulted bill or one of Sam's student loans. As horrendous as that is, it keeps Dean driven. He doesn't get caught up in what a twisted temptress hope is. But still, he hopes tonight is just sex. God, he'd even pray for rough sex, which is an odd thing to pray for. But under the circumstances, it's his best hope. He still has a large bruise on his left hipbone from last time that hurts when he moves and besides, Dean is not exactly a praying man.

2 AM finally approaches and Dean starts his clean up duties. He's acting like the Dean everyone knows: suave, not emotional, sexy and flirtatious. He acts tough and dangerous and gets tips from men and women all through the night. If only they knew the truth. Dean is a coward.

As he forces the last few patrons out and cleans up the bar, he's thinking that maybe he can tell Luc that he's just too tired and maybe they can just watch a movie and fall asleep like they did before. Dean winces and tries not to think the phrase 'before it went bad.' He's happy with Luc. He is. Things are good. He refuses to believe otherwise. There aren't any problems. In fact, Dean starts to laugh at himself a little for even thinking that their relationship was dysfunctional. Luc just likes to play it rough and Dean doesn't mind. Dean's never minded being dominated by other men.

It's half past two now and the strippers are ready to go home. Dean has this rule: unless the stripper is a big, burly, can-take-care-of-himself man, Dean walks them to their car. There are too many scenarios in which a stripper could get kidnapped, robbed, raped, murdered or beaten in a place like Tit for Tat Tarts at this time of night. He walks them in pairs and sees them off safely, before returning to help Gabe lock up and heading to Luc's.

Gabe is a skinny guy, with a flashy, flamboyant style and way too much attraction to pretty much anything that moves. He owns the place and is pretty much the best boss any of them could ask for, considering the business they're in. He lets everybody keep their entire tip earnings and pays everybody's server wages. So, all in all, it's a sweet gig. The place makes all kinds of money because let's face it, everyone can find what they're looking for here. Locking up with Gabe is always fun because the guy has this screwy sense of humor and likes to hit on Dean. It makes Dean laugh, momentarily forgetting that tonight he doesn't get to come home to Sam's homemade pizza. He's going home to something else entirely.

He waves goodnight to Gabe and gets inside of his gorgeous, jet black '67 Chevy Impala, getting up the courage to drive to Luc's. Nothing's going to happen tonight, he tells himself. No, everything is going to be great. _We'll watch Top Gun and sit on the floor and kiss and I'll fall asleep with my head on his shoulder and his arm will drape down and rest on my chest._ Dean tells himself he could ask for this one night off. After all, he'd worked all day at the garage, gone to the house and taken a shower, then gone to the club and worked all night. Couldn't he have this one night off from the rough sex and…everything else, too?

Dean, who probably hadn't been to church since his mom died, locked the doors to the Impala, turned off the Motley Crüe, closed his eyes and started praying.

"Okay, uh, God…It's Dean Winchester, and I reckon you don't like me much, since we hardly ever talk and I drink and I swear and I have a boyfriend and work at a strip club. I figure that those are all things that the God those people talk about all the time wouldn't like much. But, I'm really tired tonight, God. I worked 19 hours total today and it's only Tuesday. I've got the whole rest of the week left and we don't have a whole lot of food at the house and I'm trying real hard to take good care of Sammy. You like Sammy. I'm sure of it. He's such a good kid."

A tear slips down Dean's cheek and he chooses to ignore it, focusing on the first conversation with God he's had in a long time.

"Anyway…I'm not asking for a whole lot. I don't expect a bunch of miracles get rained down on me or an angel to come and save me or whatever. I was just wondering if maybe…just for tonight, not even forever, just this once you could just…keep Luc from um…you know…I don't want to complain or anything, God…it's just that this bruise on my hip is really bad and I don't want Sam asking me questions about how I got this shiner or that gash again because I hate lying to my baby brother. It's just that he wouldn't understand that Luc is completely justified and this is my punishment and I'm a terrible man and…and I just…please, God. Just this once. I can't handle it tonight…so please…just don't let him. Not tonight. Thanks, God."

He turnes the key in the ignition and drives the six minutes to Luc's, hoping that his prayer would be heard. He didn't like his odds though, one prayer in probably fifteen plus years means he's probably on the "Do Not Respond" list. But, maybe, just this once…just this one time, his hope wouldn't be unfulfilled.


	2. Chapter 2

It's four in the morning now and Dean is lying against the couch in Luc's house. He closes his eyes for just a moment and pretends that his prayer was heard. He's sleeping. They're watching Top Gun and Luc is pressing a gentle kiss to Dean's forehead. Dean is falling asleep. No, he's going unconscious. He can't let that happen. The darkness is penetrating and pushing against him, but Dean knows that no matter how inviting the darkness is, he can't let it claim him. He forces himself to think of Sam, having to fend for himself all alone. Dean opens his eyes.

With the crisis of going unconscious when Dean is pretty sure he has a concussion over, he gets to face the newest one. Luc is standing over him and he's completely naked now. Come to think of it, Dean is completely naked now and he isn't quite sure that he was before the darkness almost claimed him.

Luc's smirk is what scares Dean. It communicates all at once the danger and anger and lust raging inside of Luc, Dean knows what that smirk means. Dean tries to get up, knowing that it'll only be worse if he doesn't.

"Don't just lie there, you fucking lazy coward," Luc breathes. He bends down to get on Dean's level and he grabs Dean by the back of his head, pulling his hair so hard and right on the spot where there _has _to be a concussion.

"Come on, Dean. You love this don't you? Getting me all hot and bothered, conning me into fucking you? You make me do these things to you because you want to be put in your place. You're despicable."

He steps, or more likely stomps, on Dean's hand and there's a crunch. Dean swallows hard and pushes himself up. There's only one way to stop this and the sooner the better. Dean gets on his knees and grunts, ignoring the splitting pain in his hand, the gash on his lip and the way his hand has gone completely numb.

"Come here," Dean says with gravel in his voice, but the kind of gravel that means he's weak, fighting just to breathe. Luc smiles in the sickening way and Dean is shaking.

"That's better," Luc coos in a sadistic voice. He pulls Dean forward by the hair and Dean opens his mouth obligingly, taking Luc inside of him. The gash on Dean's lip splits wider as he Luc presses into Dean, invading his mouth.

At first, Dean is always allowed to be in control. He's sucking and licking and isn't allowed to be rough at all. Dean is gentle, taking the entirety of Luc's cock into his mouth and licking back down, all the way to the head. He sucks lightly at it before swallowing him whole again. Dean feels sick for the first time while he's doing this and for the first time he doesn't feel like this is his choice. For the first time, he's choking back tears, telling himself that he deserves this, that this is his punishment. He reminds himself that Luc is his boyfriend…so this couldn't possibly be _that_…right?

After a minute or so of the gentleness, Dean's control is taken away. Luc's hand is back in Dean's hair and he's pulling so hard, salty tears are prickling up again. Luc pulls Dean back and is fucking his face so hard the gash pulls open completely and blood spills into Dean's mouth alongside Luc's cock. Dean does his best to focus, knowing that the harder Luc orgasms, the easier it will be for this to end. Dean is trying so hard to be a good little boy. He lets his tongue run up the shaft and he doesn't allow his teeth to get anywhere near Luc. That would be the worst possible thing for Dean. He sucks on Luc when he gets the opportunity, but at this point, he is just an orifice to Luc. Nothing matters but the fact that Luc is in control. Dean's keeping himself aware though, afraid that if he lets himself go, he'll either choke or blackout.

He's praying again, silently this time, and finds it ironic that he's on his knees for Luc, but praying to God. He's begging God to just please…_please_ notice Dean Winchester this one time. And now, Dean isn't just begging for this one time, he's begging for a miracle. He's praying for anything, anything that God can do for him. He remember his mom telling him bedtime stories about the angels watching over them, and he asks his mom to come down as an angel, or to send one. He's trying to think of anything except for what's happening to him, and he just keeps asking for an angel. He briefly thinks of Sam and his guilty pleasure movie: Lilo and Stitch. He thinks of when she's praying and asks for the nicest angel God has. Dean is crying now, and hoping that Luc won't even notice. All he can do is pray, and he's praying so fiercely, he's sure that just this once, someone will hear him.

Finally, Dean hears the familiar growl emanating from Luc's throat and he knows he's about to come. Dean forces himself to meet Luc's eyes as he dutifully swallows, feeling so demeaned. Dean doesn't blink. He doesn't feel anything for a moment. He just feels numb and empty. But then, he feels like he might never be able to face his brother again as the shame breaches the emptiness and fills Dean in a drowning sort of way.

Luc finally pulls Dean off of him, throwing him to the ground at his feet. He scoffs in a disgusted sort of way that tells Dean he is sated for now and is probably going to go to sleep. Dean is usually expected to spend the night, but feels like he just needs to go home. He doesn't want to stay this time. Tonight he just wants to crawl into his own bed and hide under the covers and never come out again. Tonight, Dean just wants to give up.

He tries to clear his throat, but can't. So he just rasps up at Luc, "I have to get up early, I think I'm just going to go home."

Luc glares at him and has a twisted look on his face that means this isn't acceptable. A deathly growl rumbles low in his chest and he looks down at Dean.

"You're such a little cunt, you know that? You disgust me. You ask me to take care of you. You _beg _me to be everything you want and then when I give it to you, you crawl away like the cowardly slime you are. I don't know why I keep you around. Dean, all you are is a piece of ass. That's all you're ever going to be and I'm the only one who's merciful enough to keep you around. Get out. Come back tomorrow and don't be so pathetic next time. No wonder no one besides me loves you. No one could." Luc bends down and places a kiss on Dean ear, that turns into a fierce bite.

"You're mine, little slave and I love you for it," are the last words he says as he looms over him menacingly. Luc finally turns away and walks to the back bedroom.

Dean is trying not to cry, he's trying to get up, but the hand that is probably broken is starting to set wrong and he's in so much pain he can't really breathe. He tries to remember what happened before the blowjob, but he can't. He attempts to dress quickly. If he doesn't get out soon, he might not get out at all. Suddenly, he becomes hyperaware of how afraid of Luc he really is. He's shaking and he pulls his clothes on, trying not to let out a sound, swallowing the yelps that are trying to force themselves out of his throat.

He limps out of the house and locks the door carefully, knowing that if he doesn't, he's just going to be punished for it later. He limps to the Impala and pulls the door open, collapsing onto the driver's seat. He knows it isn't safe for him to drive, but what is he going to do, call Sammy at four-thirty in the morning? No. Besides, he needs to pull himself back together before Sammy sees him in the morning. Dean knows he probably isn't going to sleep tonight, but he doesn't care anymore. He just wants to get home and pretend this never happened. The best part of Dean's day is when he gets to start pretending that the stories he tells Sam are true.

The drive is a blur and he's glad he doesn't have to get on any major roads. He stays in residential neighborhoods and makes it to his and Sam's house safely. The drive is supposed to be only ten minutes, but it takes him exactly seventeen. He's too afraid to drive very fast, and he tries to drive with just one hand, but he drives a stick shift and that isn't exactly easy when one of your hands is busy knitting itself back together in the wrong way.

Dean goes to the back door, so he can go in through the kitchen, the room furthest from Sam's bedroom. He's hungry and aching and his entire body is screaming at him. His vision blurs as he gets inside the house, he almost blacks out again. He grabs onto the refrigerator for balance and stumbles to the trashcan to vomit. He's coughing out mostly bile; he hasn't eaten in over twelve hours. He thinks this must be what death feels like, and a tiny piece of him hopes that this is what that is.

Dean is too busy trying to get himself together to realize he's making all kinds of racket. When the light flicks on and Sam is standing in the doorway, Dean knows he's going to have to come up with a really great story and do it fast.

"Dean, what the hell happened to you, man?" Sam's voice is full of the maternal worry only Sam is capable of. He's got the Sam-is-so-worried-he's-about-to-call-the-FBI face on and Dean takes a deep breath, feeling a stitch in his ribs that must be from when Luc kicked him right before he almost blacked out. He'd had on his boots still. The pieces of tonight slowly fall into place in Dean's mind. As everything else blurs, the sharp reality of what happened sinks in. He flounders for a second for a story.

"It was a bad night at the club. I had to deal with a….a…a…" Dean has a story, but he's about to throw up again.

When he finally chokes it all out, he almost passes out. Sam is there in the lightning fast way Dean has never understood how a moose can have. He's holding Dean up and he's begging Dean to stay with him. Dean hears the word hospital and that's all it takes for him to get conscious again.

"No. No hospitals. I'm just going to…patch myself up in the bathroom."

"You don't have a choice, man. Come on."

Sam pulls him out of the kitchen, across the living room and to the front door. Before Dean really knows what's happening, he's in the passenger seat of the Impala and being driven to the hospital. He keeps trying to tell Sam no, that he's fine. But everything is getting fuzzier and he has never needed to sleep more in his life.

By the time he comes to, he can smell the clean scent of the hospital in his nostrils and it stings. He can smell blood and he realizes it's his own. He blacks out again and thanks the God that must hate him for the relief. He's sort of hoping that he won't just black out, he hopes that this is it. But then, just before the darkness claims him, he sees Sam's face. He's sobbing and he's shouting Dean's name and Dean is trying to figure out how he got on a hospital bed when two seconds ago he was in his brother's arms. He closes his eyes and he sees a lot of things. He sees the moment Sam came home from this very hospital and Dean told his mom that it was weird looking and she should ask for a refund. He hears his mother's voice telling him those stories about angels. Dean sees the fire that claimed his beloved mother, and he can almost feel the flames as his dad hands him Sammy and tells him to run. Dean sees his entire childhood, raising Sammy, moving around all the time as they defaulted on rent. He sees his last day at high school when he almost got kicked out, and instead he just walked out with his middle finger in the air and never looked back. His entire life is flashing in and out of vision and the last thing he sees is Luc and he thinks he can almost hear himself screaming.

When he finally opens his eyes again, he sees a face looming over him, and he thinks he's about to get hit again. But then he realizes that this face isn't Luc, this face isn't the devil. This is the face of an angel, and he's a beautiful angel. Finally, his prayer was answered. God sent him an angel, and he's so thankful. Dean can feel the tears and he's begging the angel to just let him go, begging the angel to let him join his mom, but the angel grips his non-broken hand firmly and tells him no.

"Dean, stay with me. Don't you dare go, Dean. No. Please," the angel says with gentle authority and there's an undercurrent of pleading. The angel looks so sad and so scared and who is Dean to say no to his angel? So he stays, at least…he tries to.


	3. Chapter 3

When Dean wakes up, his eyes aren't open yet. He hears the beep of a heart monitor and immediately decides that something must have happened to Sammy and he must have fallen asleep while waiting on him and holy shit what happened to Sammy and why can't he remember it. He opens his eyes and he realizes that he's the one in the hospital bed. In a sickening flash, almost like someone is fast forwarding through the events, he remembers everything and he gasps. That hurts. Come to think of it, everything hurts.

His mouth has one of those tiny bandages on it and his hand is in a cast. _Fuck_. There goes being a mechanic, a volunteer firefighter or making ends meet for the next six to eight weeks. He's trying to assess the damage and figure out what happened once he blacked out and where Sammy is. He hears voices down the hall and he recognizes Sam's voice immediately. That low, rumbling sound that's filled with worry is conversing with another familiar voice, and he's trying to place it, but he just can't. The voices are getting closer and Dean starts to tense, sure that it's going to be Luc come to check on him. He knows that if Luc knew where he was right now, Dean wouldn't make it out alive. He's trying to figure out what to do and he's so scared that he's shaking and he can hear the beeps of his heart monitor getting closer together.

That's when the curtain gets pulled back and there is Sam with the angel and suddenly, Dean realizes that he hadn't seen an angel last night. The angel was really just a nurse. A very, very sexy nurse. The nurse and Sam rush into Dean's corner of the ER and the nurse immediately springs into action. He's all over Dean, checking his blood pressure and asking him what's wrong.

"I got concerned…I thought I heard…I just got wound up. I'm okay," Dean croaks out. His voice is incredibly hoarse and he sort of hates the way it sounds.

The angel-nurse-sex-on-legs-man stands off to Dean's side and Sam is so close to Dean, he's almost worried that he might be dying. Then it dawns on him that he might be. He realizes something bad must have happened because Sam _never_ just holds Dean's hand. But, it's there. Sam's massive moose hand is holding onto Dean's like he's trying to get him to stay tethered to the Earth.

"Mr. Winchester, My name is Cas. I've been assigned to watch over you while you're staying with us," the man begins, and Dean finds it odd that he speaks as though he really is an angel.

"A lot happened last night, and it's best you know now. Your brother brought you in in just the nick of time, a minute or two later and this conversation may not be happening. Before I tell you this though, I need to know what happened before you got here. What do you remember of last night? If it is difficult to recount emotionally, we have psychiatric staff available to coach you through retelling it."

Shit. Shit. Fuck. Damn. Shit. Fuck. Damn. Fuck.

"Well, I work at this strip club, and I'm kind of the bouncer when we need one. There was this really rowdy customer last night and when I tried to make him leave, it turned into a fight. He got the best of me for a while, but eventually I got him to leave and went back to work," Dean told them. Sam looked downright pissed, but this nurse-angel-guy looked like he had just been told that a fish was a kangaroo.

"Dean, you came home at almost 5, you never get off later than 3. Where the hell did you go?! Did you go looking for the guy? Did he jump you in the parking lot? Shit! Dean!" Sam had dropped Dean's hand and began to pace the room and run his hands through his hair. Sam is the picture of freaking out, and Dean starts to think that maybe telling a lie isn't the right thing to do this time. But then he thinks of everything that will happen if he tells the truth, and Sam is worth the lie. Sam's sanity is worth keeping himself locked in this vicious cycle, even if it lands him in the hospital a million times.

"No, I…I went over to Luc's afterward to hang out. I didn't think I was in that bad of shape," Dean said with a shrug. He tried to sound as nonchalant as possible, which was pretty difficult with an oxygen tube in his nose.

Same starts to continue to rant, but the nurse holds up his hand and Sam immediately falls silent.

"You mean to tell me that this happened a minimum of three hours before you came to the ER, because you didn't think you were in _that bad of shape_? And you further expect me to believe that you went back to work after the alleged bar brawl? Frankly, Mr. Winchester, I don't believe any of that, because it's just not possible."

"Don't call me Mr. Winchester. Call me Dean. And I'm telling you, that's how it happened," Dean says tersely. He's pretty pissed that this nurse isn't buying his story. He's never had anyone not buy his bullshit before and he doesn't exactly have a contingency plan.

"Dean, who is this Luc that you spoke of?" Cas asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He's doing this half-glare, half-smolder thing and it's very distracting because it's very attractive.

Dean is sort of embarrassed to tell him who Luc is for a bunch of reasons. He's afraid this guy is going to see straight through the way Dean says the word 'boyfriend,' and he's always slightly tense when revealing his sexuality to strangers, because it's his personal business. The weird thing is though, Dean mostly just doesn't want this guy to know he _has_ a boyfriend. He'd much rather he get to hit on this nurse, and pretend like everything is just fine. Because. It. Is.

When Dean doesn't respond immediately, Sam answers for him, "Luc is his boyfriend."

Sam's hand is back to clutching Dean's, and Dean can feel the desperation coming through his fingers. Dean swallows hard, begging God for one more favor. He isn't sure what that favor is, but he knows he needs backup.

"As I thought. Dean, when you came in last night, you were very badly beaten up. You have a bruise on your left hipbone that appears to be about two days old. The bruise is very deep, and we determined that it was caused internal bleeding above your hip socket. You have two fractured ribs, which we've treated best we can. There are about a dozen broken bones in your hand, most of which are in your palm. Your lip needed to be repaired, you needed stitches on your left eyebrow and there was bleeding on your outer ear in the shape of teeth marks. You have countless bruises, including a black eye, with the addition of a popped blood vessel _in_ your eye, which is incredibly dangerous and your eye may never be the same in pigmentation or ability. And to top it all off, you have a concussion so bad it nearly killed you.

"Last night, you blacked out from the concussion and your body went into shock. You stopped breathing, and your heart started to falter. We luckily already had you in our care, and it was easily rectified. These are not injuries that one sustains and continues to work, and then go to one's boyfriend's house for a few hours, only to make it home and be driven to the ER and almost crash on the way to get an MRI. Now, you can tell me the truth, or I can get the police officer that's waiting to speak to you."

Shit. The angel that was watching over Dean sure was a pain in the ass, an observant pain in the ass. Dean tried to find somewhere to look in the room, but in the cramped space there was only Sam and Cas and the heart monitor.

"I told you the truth, and I don't want to talk to the cop. I'm fine. This is totally routine."

"Dean, this isn't routine, buddy," Sam says quietly in his please-just-listen-to-me-this-once voice. "You've never come home this bad. You almost died, man. This isn't routine."

Dean looks away from his brother quickly. He can't look at the tears that were about to spill over Sam's cheeks. He just can't.

"Sam, maybe I could speak to your brother alone for a moment? You could use some coffee," Cas suggests, and while Sam seems reluctant, he leaves.

"That brother of yours loves you. Do you know that? He hasn't slept. It's almost noon, and the kid hasn't slept. A security guard had to ask him to stay in the waiting room while we worked on you because he was getting in the doctors' way. He blew off all of his classes today without a second thought. I told him you would still be here at the end of the day. That kid loves you and you're lying to him.

"Now, I did something very unconventional last night, but I did it because I had a gut feeling that told me something was wrong. I did a rape kit last night, Dean. And normally, we don't do rape kits for men unless they're requested, which is to say hardly ever. But, I sensed something, and I believe that I'm right. I'm the one who patched up your lip there, and while I was doing that, I noticed that you had a lot of bruising _inside _of your mouth. That isn't normal for bar fights."

Cas's voice is very gentle, soothing, but pressing at the same time. Dean could tell that this guy wasn't going to relent. Dean crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. He would not talk about this with a random stranger nurse, even if that nurse had saved his life last night.

"What exactly are you suggesting?" Dean asks bitingly.

"I think that last night, something happened that you don't want to talk about, whether it be between you and this man in your life, or a John from off the street, I don't know."

Dean cut Cas off at that. "WHAT? What do you mean a John off the street?" He asks, his raspy voice trying to shout, but not really succeeding.

Cas's face turns grave, as he says "Well, Dean…this sort of thing isn't uncommon. To see men come off the street who have been attacked by their…clients, and the way you avoided calling this man your boyfriend, I thought that perhaps he was something else entirely. You seem to be hiding something from your brother and, while I can't be sure which is correct unless you let me help you…well, this is a theory."

"You think I'm a prostitute?" Dean says. It's a question, but it's also a dare. He's angry and he wants to kick this guy's ass. Dean has done a lot of things he isn't proud of to make ends meet. He's hustled pool, he's played poker, he's cheated at poker, but he has never, ever allowed himself to stoop as low as hooking. His mother would be ashamed, and Dean's first rule of life is 'Anything you do, you do it to make your mom proud.'

"Well, no. I don't. I said it's a theory, a possibility. You don't fit the typical case of trick-gone-wrong, but the symptoms do. I don't know what happened to you, but I know it's something you're not talking about with your brother, and refuse to tell medical personnel and won't speak to a police officer about. This indicates that it isn't just a customer at the club, because you'd be willing to press charges on a stranger. Not wanting to press charges is always a sign of it being closer to home or of personal illegal activity.

"I can't make you tell me what really happened, but Dean, if someone is abusing you, it will only escalate. I cannot tell you how many domestic violence cases I see in here. I stitch them up, I put on casts and they go back to their husbands and boyfriends and clients and they're back here to me within the month. Now, I take it that you use the bouncer cover story a lot with your brother and he's never exactly doubted you. I don't know why you're keeping mum, but this is dangerous. You almost died last night, Dean."

"Nothing like any of your damned theories happened," Dean says firmly, but with the rasp in his voice, it sounds like a growl.

"You don't have to tell me. I just want you to know that for your health and safety, it is imperative that you remove yourself from the situation that put you in this hospital bed. I am a resource that could help you. You should know that."

After a moment of letting the words sink in, Dean asks, "Wh-what's in a rape kit…exactly?"

"I swabbed your mouth for foreign substances and found them, and checked your fingernails for skin cells. I cataloged your injuries. All I need now is your permission to submit it."

The tears finally spill over and Dean is trying to look anywhere except for at Cas or the heart monitor or himself. He ends up looking at the ceiling, and that just ends up feeling like a big fat "I fucking told you so" from God.

"Look, Cas…I appreciate…" Dean finally manages to clear his throat, and changes course quickly. "It's just…it isn't like that. Okay?" His voice is quiet, pleading with Cas to understand that there is so much more to the situation than he thinks. Dean coughs violently and he almost vomits again.

"Dean…I believe that it _is_ like that…and when you're ready to admit it, I hope you do what's best for you, and it's before you wind up here again. Now, I cannot legally alert Sam to this, however…I believe it is in your best interest that someone who is going to be looking out for you to be aware of the _possibility_ that there is something amiss in your personal life."

"Sam can _never_ know," Dean rasps, coughing some more. He doubles over, the fractured ribs making themselves known.

Cas is there instantly, pulling Dean to sit upright and messing with his IV. Dean is suddenly aware that he was just telling an incredibly sexy stranger about his sex life and how it doesn't involve rape or prostitution. Dean feels the biggest wave of embarrassment in the pit of his stomach and all he really wants to is be four years old again, when he was allowed to curl into a ball next to his dad as they drove down the highway. He wants someone to be around to take care of him, but there is no one.

As Cas is working on adjusting Dean's IV, he clears his throat and says, "You need to stay here today. We're keeping you for observation and we're going to do a couple more tests to check on the status of your internal bleeding, and if you don't mind I'd like to do an STI/STD test, just to be safe."

Dean flushes the most awful shade of red known to mankind and silently begs for some kind of lake monster to come and swallow him whole. But no lake monsters come. He is left in the hospital bed, too close to Cas, inhaling his perfect scent. It's overly clean, because of the hospital, but you can tell there's a hint of cinnamon, he's spicy and sweet smelling and for one second Dean forgets that he's in a relationship and he's in the hospital and this man is his nurse and may not even be into dudes. He's just about the tug Cas's arm down so that he can just grab him and kiss him, but Sam comes back. Dean has never been more grateful to be cockblocked in his life.

"Uh…yeah…that would probably be for the best…" Dean admits awkwardly. He hasn't gotten tested since before he started dating Luc, and it has never ever occurred to him that he might be in danger for multiple reasons.

"So, Cas, what's going on? Did something else happen?" Sam asks as he sees adjusting the IV.

"No change, it was just time for some pain medication. We're keeping him on a morphine drip, otherwise the pain would be…unmanageable."

Dean swallows, and wants to tell him no, he can _manage_ anything. And just as he's about to tell him that, he thinks of last night and how he wished for death, how we prayed and prayed and felt violated as he fucked Luc. He thinks about his life flashing before his eyes as he almost died. Dean thinks that maybe even _he _has limits.

Sam is grabbing his hand again, but this time he sits in the chair next to Dean's bed. He looks like he's mentally aged about a hundred years. And Dean starts to think that maybe he isn't supposed to have limits, because Sam is his baby brother and he's supposed to protect him. To hell with the pain.

"You know, I think I'll be good after this one. I don't think I need the morphine," Dean says, looking up at Cas. Cas looks at him like he's stupid.

"Dean, I know you're Superman and everything, always have been, always will be, but you can't just go around acting like you're invincible. Okay?" Sam's eyes are pleading, as he uses the nickname he's always had for Dean. Dean tries to act like he doesn't find this heartbreaking, but he does.

"Okay, okay. So, how long do I have to stay here, exactly?" Dean asks, pretending that this is a mild inconvenience, not a he-almost-died-and-is-in-really-bad-shape moment.

"We'll be keeping you here for the rest of the day, you'll be released tomorrow around noon. Your cast can come off in six to eight weeks, we'd like to do a follow up visit in about four weeks. When you're released, you'll be given some prescriptions for pain, and antibiotics if infection sets in, which we're hopeful won't happen."

Cas turns to go after looking at Dean with what might be mistaken as sympathy and well wishes for a speedy recovery. But Dean knows that look. Cas has the entire weight of the world upon his shoulders, and he's concerned for Dean. He can see it, and it alarms Dean.

Cas pauses at the curtain, and turns back, saying "I truly hope you think about all the things we've discussed." He closes his eyes slowly and looks at the Winchester brothers as though they are the most important people in the world. Then he leaves, and Dean feels like he's been shaken to his core.

"That guy's great at his job," Sam says, squeezing Dean's hand. Then, he shakes his head and he asks, "What did you two 'discuss' anyway? Are you going to let the police look for the guy that did this?"

"Nah, it's fine, really, Sammy. This kind of thing happens all the time, it's a miracle I didn't wind up here sooner. He told me that I should probably leave…the uh, strip club, it being so dangerous and all. But, I'm not doing that. I mean, can you imagine what would have happened if I hadn't been there to take this for the girl the dude was getting too handsy with?"

Dean looks away from Sam. That's always been his biggest fear, that he'll take a night off from the club and _that_ will be the night that one of his girls gets taken, or mugged or…worse. He can't let that happen. He'll never let that happen. He needs to call Gabe and tell him to have Dean's back up, Raphael, ready to come in tonight. But, he doesn't really want to. _He_ wants to be there.

"I think you need to talk to your friend, the owner guy, and tell him to hire an actual bouncer. You're a bar tender, Dean, not a superhero. You might be my big brother, Superman, but you can't be that for every person you meet for the rest of your life."

"Nah, I'll be fine. Don't you worry about it, Sammy. Why don't you run to the house and get your books? You can't just take the day off. You gotta grow up to be the defender of the people and I'm not worth the day off anyway," Dean tells Sam with a small smile.

Sam doesn't want to leave his brother's side, and Dean can tell what he's thinking. So he adds, "Come on, I'm fine. You said yourself that Cas is great at his job. I'm just going to be sitting here, and you'll be back in like ten minutes anyway. You could even go home and nap. Come on, Sammy, get outta here."

Dean keeps his voice joking, adding a fake little chuckle. He's smirking as best he can around the gash in his lip. Normally, his eyebrows would jump up with the smirk, but the stitches are making that impossible. Sam finally buys it and gets up to go.

"You're right. I think I'm going to take like an hour long nap and then be back up here, okay, big brother?" Sam says with a convincing smile, but he's got much more important plans than going home and taking a nap.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: thank you guys for the support! I feel so encouraged. I love that you're guessing what will happen next. I'm hoping that I'm a little less predictable in the future. You are lovely readers. You are. I know this story is very emotionally driven, and I hope I'm doing it justice. I love you all.**

When Sam drives the Impala, he feels dirty. He feels like he's doing something bad and wrong. Despite the fact that this car was their Dad's growing up, Sam has always felt like it was Dean's baby. He restored it to perfect condition; he drives it like it understands his thoughts. When Sam drives it, he feels like he's going to get in trouble, mostly because he did until he was twenty and Dean finally decided that he was mature enough to actually drive the car.

This time, when he gets into the Impala's driver's side, he feels even dirtier, because he's lying to Dean. The Winchester brothers have very few rules. The first rule being "do your own laundry because I'm not touching that, you're disgusting." The second rule they have is "never, ever, ever cockblock unless there is too much alcohol involved or you have substantial proof that they're psychotic." The third and most important rule is "we don't lie, we don't keep secrets."

Sam knows everything about Dean, and Dean knows everything about Sam. It's a bona fide fact, or at least, Sam believes it is. That's why he never questions Dean's story about the club and coming home with bruises, he knows Dean would never lie to him _ever_. But, today, Sam feels like lying is just something he has to do, because Dean would kill him if he knew what he was doing. But Sam dismisses the guilt, reminding himself that if he doesn't do this, _Dean_ might be the one who dies.

Last night was too close of a call, and Sam never wants to see that happening again. It made him ache in the deepest parts of himself. It was worse than watching his college girlfriend die in a fire that he couldn't get her out of. Watching Dean almost die was worse than watching his dad die too young in the hospital. Watching Dean collapsing on that floor as the nurses pulled him up and put him on a gurney was worse than never having known his own mother. Dean is all Sam has, and he's willing to break the biggest rule between them to save Dean's life. Sam would die for Dean, he might as well lie…just this once.

It takes him twenty-five minutes to get there, but it probably would have taken Dean fifteen when you consider how he drives like a speed demon. Dean pulls around towards the back and convinces himself that this is going to go well. He needs to make sure the guy knows anyway.

He gets out of the Impala and walks up to Tit for Tat Tarts. When Dean got the job, Sam swore he'd never go in here on principal. It makes his nervous. Sam isn't exactly a sexual person and sometimes sexuality makes him feel uncomfortable. It's not that Sam isn't comfortable with who he is, once Dean came out as bisexual, it was way easier to accept the same fact about himself. But, there's just something about strip clubs and blatant, public sexuality that has always turned Sam into a blushing, coy little girl.

But, he can't let that get to him. He needs to get his point across and make this dude see it's nonnegotiable. Sam's going to school to know how to negotiate. He's going to be fine, but if Sam has to, he'll call one of his law school buddies that already have their licenses and threaten to sue this guy. Dean says nothing but good things about him, but still, Sam is weary.

He's never met Gabe and he's always envisioned some middle aged, fat, balding creepy ass guy who's just trying to compensate. He walks up to the back door with the white letters spelling out "office" and knocks. It takes a minute for the door to open and he hears a "on my way" from the other side of the door. Sam imagines the guy is pulling himself off of some stripper-hooker-woman and is starting to panic. When the door finally opens, Gabe is _nothing_ like he expected.

The guy isn't anywhere near as tall as Sam, but then again who is? He's got longish hair that he wears gently slicked back. He's dressed in incredibly tight white jeans that have a bright orange stripe going down the side. He's got on a brilliant blue long sleeve, striped shirt that has a V-neck that on a woman would reveal so much cleavage she might get arrested. He's smirking and Sam thinks that he might just come in his pants. This guy is perfect. He's slim in all the right places and Sam can see a very inviting bulge. He tries not to stare, but it's difficult to not stare.

Gabe's face is making it hard for him to focus on the task at hand. He has thin lips and mischievous looking eyes. Sam is about to forget why he's even here, or who this guy is, or hell who _Sam_ is. Gabe is leaning in the door frame in a position that isn't exactly sexual, but is so erotic-looking that Sam can't really control himself.

Gabe lets out a long whistle and says silkily, "Honey, _please_, tell me you're answering the help wanted sign in the front window. I've never seen a stripper as tall as you, but Jesus will you get tips. Come on in." He moves to let Sam in and Sam is frozen in place. His brain finally starts working again and it takes a couple seconds for him to formulate a response. The discomfort he feels in these kinds of situations sets in and he gets that awkward feeling in his stomach when he doesn't know what to do.

"No, I'm not," he begins, but Gabe cuts him off.

"Sugar, I can have you on the pole tonight. You'd make so many tips people will be running to the ATM just for you. If you want to start out waiting tables, that could work. Step into my office. We'll talk details."

Sam just goes into the office, figuring he needs to anyway. He doesn't really know what to do with himself. He's uncomfortable, he's turned on and he's trying to make himself focus on his brother, which is weird considering he's turned on. He sits down on the couch that Gabe indicates. He sits across from Sam and it's weird. Sam is too tall and too broad in the shoulder to look like a normal human being on any couch. He's feeling so self-conscious, because despite the situation, he still wants this guy to like him.

"I—I'm not here for a job. My name is Sam. I don't know if my brother has ever—"

"Sam? Sam Winchester? Don't even finish that sentence. Do you know how often Dean talks about you? About fourteen thousand times per conversation. 'Did you know my brother's in law school? Did you know he graduated top of his class from KU? Sam has a 4.0, he's the best thing that ever happened to me, Sam shits gold.' Okay, that last one was made up, but the way he talks. What is a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?"

Gabe is grinning from ear to ear and Sam is overcome for a second. Dean talks about him to his boss? He's hit with just how much he means to Dean, and he knows that no matter how angry Dean is with him later, this is going to be worth it.

"So if you aren't here for a job, what _are_ you here for?" Gabe asks, one eyebrow rising, and Sam is getting that uncomfortable feeling again. He hasn't exactly been hit on in a really long time and he doesn't know what to do about it, or how to be a sexual person, or how to have this conversation.

'Focus, Sam! This is important,' he tells himself firmly.

"I'm here to ask you about what happened last night," Sam says finally. His tone is grave and he doesn't want to do this anymore. He wants to ask Gabe to coffee, but his brother is more important. Dean doesn't want to work two jobs just to support them, but he does it anyway. Sam can sacrifice this one little thing for his brother, when his brother is always sacrificing _everything_ for Sam.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" Gabe says, but it sounds like a question.

"Last night. The fight."

"Dean and I didn't get into a fight last night? Kid, I have no idea what's going on. What do _you_ think happened last night?"

"No, not you and Dean. Dean and the customer. Last night, Dean came home beat to hell and I had to take him to the ER. It's a really long list of what's wrong with him, but he almost crashed. He did there for a second, but they got him back in time. He said that last night there was a customer here that he got into it with. He said the guy got the better of him for a while, but then he forced him out and he came back to work. He said he didn't think he was that bad, but I guess he just didn't realize there was that much internal bleeding."

"What? Oh my GOD! Is he okay? Is he awake? Why hasn't he called me? What happened to him?" Gabe is asking a thousand questions per second and Sam can hardly keep up.

"He's alright. He's awake and he's on pain medication. He has to stay until noon tomorrow. He hasn't called you, I guess, because he woke up about an hour and a half ago and he had to go through telling us what happened and then the nurse had to tell him everything that happened after he lost consciousness. He probably will soon. But seriously, what happened last night? I need to know because…we need to figure out how to never let it happen again."

"Your brother didn't have to throw anybody out last night. There was one guy, but he left without a fuss, all Dean had to do was glare at the guy. In fact, that's usually all he has to do. He only has to get into fights every once in a while. I log everything Dean has to do, in case anybody ever tries to sue or something."

At this, Gabe gets up and goes to his desk that's in the corner. He pulls out a yellow spiral bound notebook that has "Sexy Trouble Maker Files" written on it in bold black letters. Gabe holds it up.

"This is the official shit-Dean-has-done-to-make-my-life-harder log. In here is every incident a customer has ever caused and how he's dealt with it dating back to his date of hire. I've got detailed reports in here from every event, no matter how big and no matter how little. There is exactly one entry from last night and it includes 'Patron grabbed waitress's breast. Waitress retrieved Dean. Dean glared and crossed his arms over his chest. Creepy, skinny patron with black hair and a soul patch got up and left without much fight. 1:10 A.M. 8/16/12.' That's it. That's what happened last night."

"Well, maybe that guy jumped him in the parking lot. I mean, he could have waited for him to come out and gotten him then. I mean, even if this guy was little, maybe if he had the element of surprise, or a baseball bat or something he could have gotten the one up on Dean."

"Sam, Dean and I always leave in a pair for safety reasons exactly like that. I watched him get into the Impala and drive off ten minutes later."

Suddenly, nothing made sense to Sam. Dean lied to him. Dean is keeping secrets from him. Dean won't tell the truth about what's really going on. Dean is lying in a hospital bed, but he won't tell the truth about how we wound up there. Sam's got a headache. This just comes as too much of a shock.

"I take it there's more to this story than I'm aware of," Gabe says knowingly.

"I mean…you said Dean rarely gets into fights, but he comes home beat up a lot. It's never been this bad, but he's come home with black eyes and gashes and bruises before. I just don't understand. He always says that it was some customer here."

"He always tells me that he got whatever from this MMA class he's taking at the Y," Gabe says quietly, he's looking off to the side, like he's thinking very hard about something very painful.

"Dean works two jobs, Gabe. He doesn't take a class at the Y, he doesn't have time. In his time off he volunteers as a firefighter and sleeps and goes out with –" and that's when it hits Sam. The ugly, disgusting truth comes to the forefront of Sam's mind and finally he understands.

"Hey, Gabe, can I see your Dean notebook please?" Sam asks and Gabe hands it over right away.

Sam goes to the first page, which is Dean's first night on the job two years ago. Nothing is very interesting, except for a few incidents here and there that resulted in bruising or a cut lip. Sam finds a few promising entries in the yellow notebook and pulls a notebook of his own out of his messenger bag that practically never leaves his side. For about the hundredth time, Sam is grateful that he had decided to pull an all-nighter studying last night before Dean came home. He was still fully dressed when he found Dean in the kitchen, and all he had had to do was put on a coat and grab his messenger bag before he left, both of which had been by the door.

He's thankful for this in this particular moment because if he hadn't had the bag with him, he never would have been able to discover a vital piece of information. Being a future lawyer, and always concerned with his brother's safety, Sam keeps a log pretty similar to Gabe's, but Sam catalogs Dean's injuries. Dean doesn't know about it, but Sam figured that if they ever needed to build a case for Dean, this would be the best way to do it.

Sam starts comparing Gabe's entries with his own, and he realizes that the dates just don't match up. Occasionally, there is an incident at the club, which matches up with a time when Dean came home even more beat up than usual. Sam starts to panic. He wants to cry, he wants to kill something with him bare hands, he just wants to fucking understand what's happening because something is dangerously wrong with his big brother and he doesn't know what it is.

He checks his log for when the injuries first started getting to be serious and even more frequent. It's about four or five months ago, and Sam's suspicions are confirmed, because that's around the time that Dean started dating Luc.

"Gabe, um, would you mind terribly if I borrowed this for a bit to figure out exactly what's been going on with Dean?" Sam asks after a minute of letting it soak in.

"Sure thing, sugar. I'm guessing I won't need it for a while. I'm making that kid take time off. Tell him that I'll give him paid vacation and not to act like he's superman and doesn't need my 'charity.'" Gabe tells him, making little finger quotes on charity. The way he says it, it seems like they've had this conversation before.

"Thanks. I mean it. I need to figure out what's…what's going on. I appreciate your help. You've been more than generous, and just…just so you know, Dean speaks very highly of you."

Gabe smiles softly, and he looks at Sam like he wants to say something more. He opens his mouth, then makes a face like he doesn't want to overstep his bounds.

"Sam, I have…a theory…um…Dean was really upset last night, when he was leaving. He didn't drive off right away, and I just had this feeling…so I sort of creepily watched him. I'm not stalking him! I swear. I just…he works so hard and he acts like he's Atlas. Y'know? With the world on his shoulders and Dean is just…anyway. I was worried and I watched him and…last night he was crying before he drove off and I…I can't be sure but I think he was…praying. I know that's not Dean's thing, but I'm almost sure of it. And…before we left last night…he mentioned that he was going over to see that guy he's been seeing."

Gabe swallows hard, and closes his eyes, looking wise beyond his years. Sam is moved by this man, who is really just Dean's boss, who cares for his brother so deeply, that he would watch to make sure that he's okay as Dean cries and prays alone in his car. Sam is engulfed in how much other people love his brother. He's reminded that he isn't the only one who cares about his brother. The Winchester brothers have been alone, fighting a them-against-the-world uphill battle for so long, it takes Sam completely off guard that there are other people on his brother's side.

"Thank you for telling me that," Sam says as he stands to go. He's dumbstruck by everything. The truth, Dean, Gabe, being attracted to Gabe, being so moved, being so oblivious for months, the feelings are staggering.

He has so much on his mind that his brain goes haywire for a second, and he hears Dean's voice in his head for a second.

'_Come on, Sammy boy, what did I teach ya? If you step up to bat, the worst thing that can happen is you swing and miss. But if you never step up to the plate, you never get the shot at scoring the game winning homerun.'_

Sam is at the door and Gabe is walking him out. Sam bites his lip and takes a deep breath. He pauses, turns around and Gabe is so close it's practically one of those chick flick movies where you just know they're going to kiss.

"Um, I was wondering…if maybe I could have your phone number…" Sam asks quietly, his awkwardness getting the best of him for a second.

Gabe quirks an eyebrow and immediately the mood switches from the serious conversation they'd been engrossed in to the flirtatious, non-serious mood of before. There's a smile playing on Gabe's lips that's a smirk and a grin all at once. Sam hasn't seen anything sexier in his life.

"Of course," he says and puts the number in Sam's phone.

Sam turns to go again, and is half way to the Impala when Gabe calls, "Oh, and pretty boy, I'm going to get you on that pole on day if it's the last thing I do."

Sam grins, despite his discomfort with feeling so sexual in how absolutely public a private, empty parking lot is and he decides to take another chance, just this once.

"Good luck with that one, sweetcheecks. I'm not easy to persuade."


End file.
